Only the wind
by Unseen
Summary: Now with author's apology and challenge. Things are never easy for our dear Potions Master, are they? *COMPLETE*
1. Looking through the window

Only the Wind  
  
By Unseen  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own no one. They're all free people anyways. Weeelllll… nah… not really. Pity, though.  
  
A/N: Right, this is my first fanfic ever, so please be indulgent… please . This is a really TAME story that I wrote one evening while listening to Danny Elfman's music for Edward Scissorhands. Hence the snow. And I was feeling rather depressed too. Still, this may turn out slashy in the second part, and the rating will change accordingly.. R&R please!  
  
Ah… yes, I know it's not really good. But I had to start SOMEWHERE, hadn't I?  
  
1 Part One  
  
Remus Lupin was sitting at the window, his stooping figure clearly outlined against the oppressively white scenery outside. It was one of those cold winter days, when even the sharp cold is somewhat dulled by the suffocatingly low clouds and the painfully grey luminosity. But the werewolf wasn't looking out. Nor was he looking anywhere, really; he was only lost in thought.  
  
Almost Christmas. Again. Not that it really mattered, he reflected. Christmas would go just as it had gone every single year, in loneliness. At least he wouldn't be shifting, this time. He sighed deeply, looking more exhausted than ever. He would be in no condition to even step out of his room for the school banquet, and questions would be asked amongst the staff. And he'd have to lie again and again to shield himself from the disgust and fear of some of his fellow professors. It had seemed so simple last year… His amber eyes blurred for a second. No use thinking of it, really. He laughed bitterly. Only last Christmas had been different… No, don't. Don't think about it. Last Christmas never happened. Nor did last year, for that matter.  
  
Knocking at the door. Remus jumped nervously, taken aback. A flash of recollection, mixed with pain and regret, crossed his face. He shifted slightly to face the heavy oaken door and, clearing his throat, he called in a slightly altered voice: "Come in". Get a grip on yourself, man. You mustn't let people see you like this. They'll ask questions. Don't spoil it all. He straightened up and squared his shoulders, correcting his previously stooping posture and brushing back his greying hair as the door creaked back on its hinges. He inhaled sharply, preparing for the shock that always hit him as hard, even after three months.  
  
A strikingly young man entered the room, bearing a leaden goblet filled with a nauseating-smelling potion. Wolfsbane potion. He put it down on Remus' desk without a word, and smiled sympathetically. It used not to taste so bad when Severus made it, he noted as he gulped down the scalding mixture, his stomach lurching in protest. Then again, the new potions master did not have the skills of Professor Snape, and he had probably never heard of Wolfsbane potion before Dumbledore mentioned it, adding that the preparation instructions and formulas would probably be found in Severus'personal notes.  
  
That was not surprising, considering the potion was Snape's own invention. After much experimenting, he had finally succeeded in making the taste bearable… Remus smiled at the memory… Severus, sleek black hair flowing in ripples on his shoulders, stirring restlessly his experiment cauldron, adding a pinch of this, a sprinkle of that, his attentive midnight-black eyes never straying from his work, except when they turned towards him questioningly for his opinion as to the result. Three hours later, he had finally given up, sweat trickling down his forehead, his robes clinging to his body, utterly exhausted and dissatisfied.  
  
And then the next morning, when the ritual knocking had come at his door, Remus had seen a mischievous-looking Severus entering, the dark circles under his eyes betraying absence of sleep, bearing the goblet like a crown jewel, and sneering proudly at him "Surprise…". But that was only three months ago, so he never had the chance to write it down, because…. Remus couldn't help glancing dejectedly at the young man standing in front of him. He muttered a choked "thank you" and averted his eyes.  
  
His eyes stared unseeing through the book on his lap as memories and emotions flooded back to him. Incapable of stopping the flow, he let himself drown into it. Anger, pain, regret washed over him as he let himself be immersed in images from the past. A few days before last Christmas, he had been looking out of the window, on a day very similar to now. Only that day, he could see a dark figure progressing evenly over the snow towards the forest, which he barely identified as Severus'. Curious as to where his secretive colleague could be going, he had thrown on a cloak and gone after him… 


	2. Ice

A/N: Hi.. It's me again. Couldn't get Edward out of my mind tonight either.. so sorry! More snow coming up.. Flames don't stand a chance…  
  
  
  
Flashback////  
  
Remus hurtled down the stairs, his cloak billowing behind him. Curiosity was overpowering… He tumbled over snow-covered roots and rocks, nearly toppling over once or twice. His eyes strained towards the forest, barely making out Severus' silhouette against the blinding whiteness that seemed to encircle him. He entered the Forbidden Forest after him. After half an hour's walk, Remus was tiring of the pursuit. Why had he even been following Severus? After all, what business did he have in where the Potions Master was headed?  
  
[Be honest with yourself at least, Remus. You wonder because you LIKE him. Like? Yes, like. How can you like that man? He's mean and petty and sarcastic and… Oh shut up. He's like me. Alone. ] The silver-haired teacher flinched internally at this confession. Alone. He would have been hard put to deny it. Having to lie to the whole staff as to his nature didn't make for friendship. And amongst the people who knew… Harry and his friends were too young, Minerva and Dumbledore too imposing, having been his teachers, as to Snape…  
  
He'd lost him. "Now where has the damn git got to?" he muttered under his breath. Looking around to check no one could see him, Remus closed his eyes and sniffed the air around him slightly. There. To the right. He opened his eyes again. Being a werewolf had its advantages. He walked a few more meters and stopped abruptly at the sight that met him.  
  
He had stumbled upon a rather large clearing in the woods, thickly carpeted with snow, which glinted faintly despite the lack of sunshine. Yet there was something twinkling yet more intensely, sheening the clearing with droplets of rainbow-light… Remus gaped in front of a collection of pure, transparent ice-carvings. He was so taken with the beauty of them that it was several minutes before he located Severus, a dark spot hovering between the fantastic shapes. He stood with his back to Remus, his wand aimed at a precise spot to the left of what was rapidly becoming a howling wolf.  
  
Remus' mind registered all this as he silently crept forward to get a better look. He had no idea… whatever. His mind plainly refused to analyse any of this, discarding it as hallucination. Yet the statues were there… And this wolf…Surely there was no connection with him, was there? His eyes narrowed as he examined it, creeping closer and closer, not noticing he had come within inches from the sculptor.  
  
Severus inhaled sharply as he saw the wolf's eyes glow a dull amber. Ice shouldn't do that. Only reflections… He turned on his heels and found himself staring into the original and considerably warmer amber eyes of Remus Lupin. His own eyes darkened with anger, then embarrassment as he noticed Remus' questioning eyes hovering to the wolf behind him. He got stuck between a grin and a scowl, shuddered, then settled for a safe neutral expression.  
  
"How did you get here Lupin ?"  
  
The words were spoken harshly, yet with a trace of resignation. Severus KNEW how his colleague had reached his clearing, so the question was a means to convey his displeasure rather than gaining information.  
  
"Why, these are beautiful carvings, Severus, Lupin commented, seemingly unaware of the hostility in Snape's voice. How do you make them? How long…. Gods, it's Hogwarts over there, isn't it? And Big Ben! And…"  
  
Severus couldn't help smiling lightly at his companion's juvenile enthusiasm, and surveying his work with pride. He had great difficulty in sounding utterly displeased when he cut Remus off.  
  
"Yes, and you are the first person to see it. May I remind you that this is a PRIVATE place? Where am I going to get some peace now that you've found my hideout?"  
  
Remus looked downcast, and immediately regained his composure and manners.  
  
"Of course, Snape. I am sorry for having intruded. Be assured that it will not happen again."  
  
He looked at the Potions Master with such honesty and understanding that Severus felt a sudden urge to ask him to stay, but his face remained blank and emotionless until the other man's silhouette had become a blurred dot between the trees. He could still hear the disappointment in Remus' voice as he checked his enthusiasm and admiration, remembering how his amber in his eyes had lit up upon discovering the carvings. The clearing seemed very cold and empty, all of a sudden.  
  
Severus slowly swivelled to stare in the wolf's liquid eyes. "Don't be sorry…"  
  
A/N : Soooooo.. I have SOME idea where this fic is going, if you were wondering. And yes, Gilles, this will end tragically. Tears, snowflakes, all that. *grins* Question is… will this be slash or not ? Why was Severus carving a wolf ? (any ideas ? I have a few, but not all that original..)  
  
Review, people, please ! (and help me out, eventually..) 


	3. Silver

A/N: Hi again! Chapter 3 is up! Now things are starting to fall into place…. Well.. you don't really know what happened yet, but where would the fun be?  
  
I want to thank you all for your reviews, it's really heart-warming to see that people read what you blurt out on the net… Ah, yes.. I made this story up after having written the beginning on a mad impulse, so I guess there may be a few loose ends.. well, I tried to avoid then anyway!  
  
As to the great issue of "To slash or not to slash.." Well, my apologies to both Kimagure AND Tatiana.. for this will be neither ! I'm trying to please everyone at once (you can interpret their relationship just as you like, it'll e ambiguous enough. I never was one for writing lemon, anyways.. ().  
  
To Kimagure also.. you're wrong there.. I've come up with a much more satisfying explanation of the wolf carving, plotwise… Hope you like it nonetheless!  
  
For Gilles and Couscous: Only the wind is indeed from the PSB. Love that song. Love all of their songs. ( Ok, I'll add this.. PSB own the title. (grumble.. I own nothing in this fic.)  
  
Blackletter… thanks, Shakespeare is yours. You gave me the idea for this. Ah, yes, I wanted to say I liked your "Reflection of a Shadow". Really weird, but good. It reminds me of a mix between Jekyll and Hyde and Ambrose Bierce. To all of you out there, this is worth reading!  
  
Okay, now I'm done with publicity.. on with it!  
  
Remus looked up sharply from his book as what his eyes had just registered wormed its way into his consciousness. Just like that day over a year ago, a dark cloaked figure was trudging with utmost stubbornness towards the Forbidden Forests. His chair clattered loudly as he jumped up and dashed to the stairs. He almost collided with Madam Pomfrey, who made as if to say something, but only stepped back when she saw the look on his face. The doors burst open, and he was outside. The figure had disappeared.  
  
Remus shuddered from the cold, his head clearing with the crisp early evening air. Why had he rushed out this way? It couldn't be Severus. He knew that. The unidentified stroller probably wasn't even headed for the clearing, since only himself and Dumbledore knew of its existence. Not that it mattered anymore. The carvings had melted in early spring, and once the cold returned, no-one remained to reshape them. Remus sighed. I must be going mad. [Don't say that. You know there's something else. You are linked to this place somehow. Can't deny instinct.] He merely shrugged at the voice in his head and headed back to the school.  
  
[DON'T IGNORE THIS! You know this is where the figure is headed. You have to be there, just in case.]  
  
A hundred alarm bells seemed to go off in his mind, echoing through his brain.  
  
[Remember last time you ignored an impulse?]  
  
The werewolf winced. That was a low blow. Effective, though: he immediately raced towards the tree line. The snow crunched lightly underfoot, his passage leaving almost no noticeable trace on its surface. He relished the feeling of the cold wind against his skin and in his hair, forgetting everything for a few blissful minutes, letting the wolf take control. He found himself doing that more and more since Severus' death…  
  
The clearing was empty when he arrived, slightly breathless from the run. Leaning against one of the massive trunks, hidden by the leaves yet with a perfect view over the opening in front of him, he let the tension ease out of his wiry frame. "Well, here you are, he muttered. Empty. Instinct, eh? I must be going mad…" He sank to the ground, propped against the massive tree.  
  
His eyes still roamed over the clearing, desperately searching for contradiction… which did come. His eyes picked a movement on the other side of the clearing. The cloaked figure he had been trailing furtively slipped into the clearing, then, wand in hand, started pacing it, measuring angles between the marks and trails that were all that remained of Severus' patient and greatest work. His most generous one, too.  
  
Remus walked up to it silently, then spoke, causing the figure to jump up guiltily.  
  
" Professor Simons ? May I inquire as to what you are doing?"  
  
His voice was calm and quiet, as gentlemanly as ever, not showing any of the turmoil of emotions that boiled inside him. Anger, pain, hate, an urge to kick this intruder out of this place he wouldn't ever understand or appreciate for what it was; the greatest proof of friendship and forgiveness ever… going round in circles in his brain so fast it felt like bursting….  
  
"Well I… Simons stuttered, turning a bright red. I came across a few notes of my predecessor, you know, and I thought I ought to check this out. Didn't know you had heard about this place too", he added, embarrassed, his French accent coming up briefly as always in such circumstances. This used to irk Snape no end, Remus remembered.  
  
Flashback///  
  
"Little moron, grumbled a grumpy Snape as he entered Remus' office one evening for their ritual brandy after dinner.  
  
This had turned into quite a habit over the last month… The evening after Remus' intrusion, he had come to apologise, and this time Severus couldn't help but be amiable. He couldn't remember how things had got to that point, really, but he couldn't complain… He and the DADA teacher shared many common interests besides their mutual dire need for company.  
  
Shakespeare. Yes, it has started with Shakespeare. That evening, Severus had been reading from his worn out copy of Hamlet, and just as Remus was about to leave, embarrassed and confused at the Potions Master's unusual behaviour, (he had smiled, for God's sake!!), he had spotted it on his desk and made a comment about having seen a Muggle adaptation recently on video. It turned out that Snape was un-Slytherin enough to appreciate Muggle acting, and it was agreed that he would come to see it the following evening in the werewolf's quarters. From then on, several nights were passed in the quiet company of each other, talking into the late hours of night.  
  
"Surely he can't be that bad, Severus… Be patient with him, he only graduated last spring. And from Beauxbatons, too, which you must admit is far from being of Hogwarts' standards…"  
  
The Potions Master was forced to smile at his colleague's tolerance and calm. He moaned:  
  
"Jesus, I can't believe he chose to study Potions! He has absolutely no predisposition whatsoever, can't stand to study a book for more than half an hour, and obviously has no notions of the subtleties of potions making. He so awfully cheerful and healthy I feel like I were on a Quidditch field all day."  
  
"You never did like Quidditch, did you? Come to think of it, I never did either." He grinned. "Won't you sit down ?"  
  
Curiously enough, Severus let the topic of his assistant's latest exploits, which never failed to make Remus and him laugh, and sat uneasily on the high-backed armchair next to Remus'. He looked grave for a moment, then cleared his throat…  
  
"Remus, I have been meaning to tell you… I don't want you taking Wolfsbane potion anymore." That was not an easy thing to say, but he had to. "You may even have to leave Hogwarts, but believe me, things cannot continue this way."  
  
Remus was silent, digesting the blow. He looked in earnest at his colleague, but Severus' face was lost in shadow, his expression inscrutable. Words rushed to his lips. What would he do? Use the Shrieking Shack again, bite and tear at himself like the wild animal he was once a month, be a threat to everyone around? Leave Hogwarts, and live a nomad's life, moving from town to town fast enough never to be found out? That potion of Severus' had been the gift of his like, the one thing which enabled him at last to live an almost steady life. Yet of all this, all that reached his lips was a quiet, almost inaudible "Why?"  
  
He thought he could hear Severus take in breath sharply. "Remus.. do you know what is the potion's active principle?"  
  
The other man merely nodded his ignorance..  
  
"Silver." It was uttered expressionlessly, in calm, steady voice, which made Remus want to scream.  
  
Then in a whisper which was nothing like is precedent tone: "I'm doing this for your own good, you know…it poisons your blood, little by little… would kill you on the long run…" Severus's voice broke. He leapt from his seat, patted the frozen werewolf briefly on the shoulder and stormed out of the room.  
  
"Damn", he cursed, once out. He would never forget Remus' faintly shaking hands as he destroyed his new-found security. Maybe he should have told him about the carvings…  
  
A/N: Me again.. ok, I'm working on the next chapter and I'll try to post it soon.. you'll find out about those mysterious ice carvings and learn a few things about lycanthropy.. does that sound good to you people? 


	4. Cubed Ice

A/N: I love you all SOOOOOO much for reviewing!!!!!! You've been real nice to me, people I do appreciate. Not a single flamer among you!  
  
The Marvellous Mad Madam Rene: first, I like your name. Then, I like to know that you read my fic regularly!  
  
Kimagure.. you haven't seen or rather read anything YET… wait till you learn what ice carving is all about…( Hope you'll like the idea too, I really am one for pseudo-scientific reasoning… too much Matheson and Simak in my youth, no doubt..  
  
Sugahcat: Well, you know, not defining anything WAS for slash-lovers like you… I must admit I'm rather partial to slash myself, but my aim in this fic is to make an absolutely awful story without a single really violent or licentious passage… I think it doesn't take that to make a story angsty!  
  
The World in general: I'm really getting the hang of this, you know? *beams proudly* Nah.. I just do my best. Actually, there are not all that many chapters left in this fic for me to write, so I should be moving on to another one rather soon.. Anyone wishing for something special they haven't ever seen before? I'll write ANYTHING, promise. Well.. almost.  
  
Oh, and, I'm so sorry for taking so long to update: the odds of destiny and orientation, you know… well, I'm sorry anyway..  
  
  
  
So many shattered hopes… Back in his room, Remus dropped on his bed and stayed like that, looking straight at the ceiling, or rather straight through it. Simons had found Severus' notebook, and for just one second, he had hoped that all was not lost, that the carvings could still be reproduced… but Severus never wrote things down. His notebook was more a prop than anything else, all was stored in his head. And all had vanished with him.  
  
Simons had seemed pretty confused when Remus tore the book from his hand, asking him frantically whether it mentioned ice carvings anywhere. He couldn't blame him, really: without Severus' explanations, he would never have thought these carvings had any real importance other than aesthetic. His life had revolved around them for so long that he was amazed that he couldn't make them himself from memory. Yet that wouldn't work: it had to be calculated to the tenth of a degree… Severus had spent months working this out. His masterpiece. And the most wonderful Christmas present ever… [don't cry, you idiot. Don't think about how things could have turned out. He's dead. They're all dead. You're alone.]  
  
Only once had he not felt alone. [Why does it always get back to *him*?] It was the in-between time, he realised. An enchanted parenthesis in both their lives, before reality caught up with them and took its revenge. It started the very evening after the Potions' Master had told him about the Wolfsbane Potion.  
  
Flashback///  
  
[This can't be.] But it is, Remus told himself. And I'm not even given a choice. He remained standing just as Severus had left him, too shocked to follow or collapse, let alone call after him. After a while, he got to pacing the room absent-mindedly. [There's no way out of this.] he had been on the brink of suicide, when suddenly the potion offered new, if not vast perspectives for his life. Yet there was no way Severus could have known that. It was ironic, really, he thought with a wry smile. Wolfsbane Potion in itself WAS a means of committing suicide.  
  
Without him noticing, his restless pacing had taken him out of his room and about the moonlit corridors. He slumped on a cold stone step, oblivious of his surroundings. It seemed oddly fitting that he should be physically as lost as he felt in his mind, he mused.  
  
That was it. He couldn't take any more waiting, and he knew for a fact that Remus wouldn't be sleeping either, despite the late hour. He might be giving the man false hopes, but there was nothing better to offer him as yet anyway. In one fluid movement, he rose from his armchair, not bothering to pick up the heavy volume that had fallen from his lap with a dull thud in the process. [I only hope that my calculations are right… It would be the death of him, if I'd got it all wrong… But then again, if I'm right…] Unbidden, a flame of pride surged through his heart, bestowing a new spring to his step and new assurance to his mind. I would work, it had to. The world could only take so much inequity. And Remus had already got his share of that, if not more.  
  
The Potions' Master tripped over a slumped form in the darkness. It didn't cry out, just pushed harder against the stone wall as if trying to melt into it and vanish like Peeves or any decent ghost would. A ray of moonlight briefly caught to strands of tawny golden hair, frosted with silver. He reached out tentatively and gently shook the figure by the shoulder. "Remus?"  
  
No doubt was left when two impossibly wide amber eyes looked blindly up to him, blurred with confusion, despair, and something more. Something … tired. The man looked like and exhausted rag doll. Severus couldn't believe his eyes. [You shouldn't be surprised; that was only to be expected…] The sight of his exquisitely calm, patient and polite colleague looking so vulnerable made him inexplicably uneasy. He looked.. haunted. Treading his reluctance and uneae, Severus collected his spirits and unceremoniously lifted the werewolf to his feet. As he didn't seem in any condition to stand, albeit walk, he half dragged, half carried him back to his room.  
  
He mumbled a hurried spell to start a fire, set Remus in his armchair in front of it, immediately setting a kettle to boil. And as he did so, he thought. [Damn. I never imagined he would be THAT shocked…] he felt a pang of guilt at that. He should have been less brutal. Still, he wasn't about to admit that. It was bad enough that he was bustling like a housemaid over tea for two, and carrying a stunned werewolf around Hogwarts. Where had his dignity got to?  
  
Half a teapot later, Remus seemed more or less to come to his senses. His expression began confused.. on to surprised, shifting rapidly to apologetic.  
  
"I'm so sorry Severus, I seem to have been somewhat disturbed. I hope I didn't put you into too much trouble…" His voice was shaking slightly, though he took pains to make it sound firm. [Always well-mannered, eh? Well, at least that means he's back to almost normal…] Severus barely restrained an affectionate smile from spreading over his features upon hearing his almost friend's perfect British accent, but he checked himself and his expression remained wooden.  
  
"Remus.. seeing how our prior conversation has affected you, I think I should put you wise to a few things immediately." His voice was grave but held none of the gloomy intonations he often sported. Remus actually sensed something like excitation in its pitch, and that sparked up something, hope, somewhere… He sat up, put his cup down, listening intently, his eyes fixed on Severus' face.  
  
"It concerns ice carving."  
  
  
  
/// Present.  
  
Remus couldn't remember every single word spoken that evening, Severus' hopeful intonations, the glimmer in his eye as he became more and more animated , exposing his theories… [Never again. He will never use that brilliant mind of his again, never contaminate you with his passionate enthusiasms again…]  
  
He absent-mindedly watched the ice-cubes floating in his drink. He drank alone in the evenings, these days, and it took twice as long to finish a bottle, without Severus. The ice bobbed randomly in the amber liquid that matched his eyes perfectly. Ice had been a brilliant idea.  
  
Severus had tried it out with glass and many other less ephemeral materials without success. Only ice did the trick. At first, Remus had been left speechless by the amount of effort he had put into it: hours spent tirelessly calculating angles, taking measures in the clearing, shaping gigantic ice blocks as soon as winter allowed it… All that from a simple hunch, without any assurance of success. For him, and for the love of science. Hz had told Severus a much and only managed to embarrass him, it seemed.  
  
"I like you. Your affliction has always fascinated me just as much as it scared me. I guess it's all Black's fault… I got to studying, after that incident, and well…And I liked you. You're civilised." All this had been said reluctantly, as if each word of justification cost him a strenuous effort, eyes averted. When he had finally lifted them and read the admiration and gratitude in Remus', he had blushed as a schoolboy. Then, hesitatingly at first, but gaining confidence as he spoke, he had warned him about the possibility of it all being just wind, forcefully and mercilessly assessing every argument in favour of a mistake on his part.  
  
[Poor Sev. It wasn't his ability he should have been worried over.] Remus drowned half his drink in one gulp, feeling the alcohol seep soothingly through his veins. [ You were too sincere for this world, in your way, Severus Snape. There's no such thing as luck and no such thing as a quota of inequity. ] Inside his glass, the ice cubes started to melt. 


	5. A Ghost

Remus didn't hear the knocking, at first, too engrossed in his book to be aware of his surroundings. He tended to do that, now. Flee reality. He glanced at his watch and started. He was THAT late?! Still clutching his book, he flung the door open, an apology already forming on his lips, then stopped dead in his tracks. Severus was standing on his doorstep. For one split second, it all seemed back to normal, and Remus was about to usher him inside when…  
  
"Professor Lupin! Don't worry, I've sent for the infirmary staff: they'll come and take him back directly. Can't imagine how he got out, can you?"  
  
He looked back towards the silent man at his side, and shuddered uncontrollably. Could it even be called a man? Yet this body devoid of soul had once hosted a mind, and a brilliant and refined mind, at that. Could he have imagined it? For a moment he had seen the familiar glimmer in the eyes that had once been Severus'…  
  
But now the form looked blandly towards Simmons, standing flushed in the corridor. It occurred to Remus that the man was expecting an answer, and provided him with a non-commitment grunt, too shaken to deal with words. It must have been the reflection of a torch, or his imagination. There was nothing left in this empty shell of the man he had grown to like so much. Severus Snape was dead.  
  
Flashback///  
  
Spring had come, and the ice had melted. So had the carvings. Severus was enraged at the thought that he had been so close to completing them, yet he had to accept waiting for another six months before taking it up again. Another six months of relentlessly poisoning the werewolf with this godforsaken Wolfsbane potion. He was in a foul mood when he made it to Remus' office, and the latter thought with commiseration about his unfortunate apprentice. Now was not time to talk of him, though: he must lift the Potions Master's spirits if he wanted those six months to be bearable for them both, not to mention the students. Besides, it was his affliction which had caused it all, and he couldn't be having that.  
  
He didn't have too much trouble completing his task, though: the sight of his concentrated frown immediately soothed to Snape's temper. [Patience, Severus. It's for him you are doing it all. Don't be an insufferable creep with him, at least; he is the one who should be miserable]. He was startled, though, when Remus lifted a smiling face towards him and said, like it was the most commonplace thing on Earth: "Fancy a picnic?".  
  
  
  
The memory brought a wan smile to the werewolf's lips. That was how he should remember Severus: startled, eyes glinting, lips parted in surprise, raven-black hair falling untidily all about his face. Or he should remember the delightful afternoons they had spent in the clearing, picnicking as Remus had suggested, or afterwards, whilst Sev shaped a model for his ice carving out of wood, and he read some English author or other aloud. They used to relish these afternoons off, and by the end off summer, Severus had acquired a tan, and Remus' diction had improved significantly, thanks to the subtle corrections his friend made along his reading.  
  
They had grown closer, during these times, learning more about each other, and finding more and more common tastes and interests, Remus reflected. They never spoke of the past, though. The past was a subject that neither of them wished to dwell upon. Suddenly, life was calm, there was hope, and the prospect of the following week's picnic in the clearing, which seemed to do them both a world of good. And then came winter, and with it snow, ice and other things.  
  
Remus closed his eyes and tried to stop his thoughts there, in the snow- carpeted clearing, Severus grinning like a Cheshire cat, eyes twinkling merrily et the sight of the gigantic ice block they had just levitated there. "It'll be ready before next full moon, I promise, he had said, looking at him earnestly. You'll never have to go through this again, if I am right."  
  
He had circled the block slowly, and studied the wooden carving he had made during the summer. Remus' eyes wandered to a dark corner of his apartments, where the very same carving loomed in the shadows which hid the scarred remains of its left side. Severus' legacy. That was it, then, his thoughts had betrayed him and moved beyond the safe point.  
  
Flashback///  
  
"See you tonight, Remus".  
  
He had stalked out of the clearing towards his afternoon lesson, pausing for a second to look back at Severus, ice particles flying all around him and glistening in his hair, intent on his task. He felt a rush of… affection for the man, and felt terribly like telling him how much his work and his friendship meant to him, but he couldn't seem to phrase it, so he just turned back and headed towards the castle. [I'll surprise him tonight. I'll get us seats for the Oscar Wilde play we talked about last week…] He smiled at the prospect of the Potions Masters' delight. The afternoon passed uneventfully.  
  
  
  
[That was the last moment of happiness we were allowed. After that, it was all blood and raging darkness. Severus never came to my room that night.] Remus picked up his glass as swallowed a large quantity of brandy to steady himself. What was the point of thinking it over again? [There is no point. But you owe it to him, no?]. It must have been the incident that afternoon. He never went to the Infirmary anymore, to avoid that. It always made him feel sick and depressed. Well. More than usual, anyway. And that was not saying little. Most of his colleague assumed it was due to Severus' fate, and it was, too. Remus had been growing more and more sickly. So the Potions Master had been right about the Wolfsbane potion. Somehow, even though he had believed him, the werewolf hadn't expected the silver to poison his metabolism quite so soon.  
  
And then it came to him. Maybe it was the brandy, maybe it was the pain. It was there all the same. [You must do something about this. You cannot carry on living like this]. 


	6. Ends

Remus slipped into the Infirmary unnoticed. Careful not to disrupt the nightly quiet, he reached a small, barely noticeable trapdoor in the far- end wall, away from the infirmary beds. [Just like them to hide him like that] he shuddered. No-one knew what had happened to the much-feared Potions professor bar the staff. He tried to tell himself that it was all for the best.  
  
His hand trembled slightly over the door-handle. His face set, he pushed the door open, and entered. Shouldn't it have been locked? He dismissed the thought and looked around. Pale moonlight streamed into the small padded cell and over the man's empty features. He wasn't sleeping. Remus found himself wondering whether he ever slept at all. For now, he was staring at the intruder unblinkingly. [Brilliant Remus. Now what? What can you do?] He sat on the floor, level with the envelope of Severus Snape still staring at him.  
  
And then something happened. For one instant, staring into the listless black pools of his companion's orbs, Remus picked out a glimmer that hadn't been there, that shouldn't have been there: warmth flickered in them, and something like recognition, at odds with his blank face and lack of movement. The werewolf blinked and stared intently in Severus'body's eyes. And again that shard of consciousness was there. Could it be true? Remus felt almost like crying with relief at seeing that spark of intelligence, which he had deemed impossible after the events of the previous month…  
  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his wrist. He struggled desperately before realising that it belonged to the body facing him, and that the eyes were beckoning him to follow. He ceased to struggle and he thought he saw something akin to relief flooding in them. He was pulled to his feet, and gently tugged towards one of the cell walls. Remus drew in a shaky breath and nodded to the figure, before following it through the wall, which offered no resistance.  
  
*******************  
  
A month ago; nine PM.  
  
Remus lifted his eyes to the clock above the mantelpiece for the hundredth time, idly wondering what the hell Severus could be up to. It was too late for him to be carving, assuredly, and he must have been out of the Forest… The things that prowled it at night could be dangerous even to a fully trained wizard.  
  
"Nonsense, Severus had once told him after he expressed his fears, a few days ago. I'm the scariest thing in these woods when night falls. And I'm proud of it." He had grinned, and Remus had found it impossible to be angry at him.  
  
Still… the Potions Master had never been that late. And furthermore, they were going to be late for that play, if he tallied further. Remus abruptly realised that he had been fidgeting nervously. He started to pace about the room. Well, if they wanted to get there on time, he would just have to go get Severus directly in the Forest. And it would assuage his fears at the same time, even if it made Sev mad that he was being treated like a four- year old… He bit back a smile, threw on a heavy cloak, present from the former, and left towards the clearing.  
  
*****************  
  
The hand on his arm was the only thing that kept him from panicking in the unfathomable darkness that surrounded them. About ten minutes had elapsed since they had left the Infirmary, and still they walked on, the hand guiding him patiently, and never saying a word. Just as Remus thought that he couldn't take anymore and was going to die of claustrophobia, they emerged into a place that seemed awfully familiar…. The clearing. They were in the clearing. He looked up at the dark figure standing beside him, and knew without a doubt that there was more in its mind than a screaming void. Logic denied it, but there must have been a glimmer of Severus Snape left, it least tonight.  
  
But why had he been brought here? "Severus" ushered him into the shadows beneath the dense vegetation, and motioned for him to look to the centre. The carvings stood there, unblemished, glinting fantastically in the moonlight. A Shadow hovered over them, polishing them with minute flickers of wand than shone warmly in the surrounding darkness. Remus let out a strangled cry, and the figure behind him squeezed his shoulder slightly, though whether in comfort or in restrain, he wasn't sure.  
  
Out of nowhere, another figure appeared, and soundlessly made its way towards the sculptor. A sick feeling twisted the werewolf's stomach as an elaborate motion of Severus' alight wand allowed him to see what it was. A dementor.  
  
The man was humming softly under his breath a tune from a film they had seen together, and stood back to survey his work, satisfied. "Right. This time, it's ready…" And he froze. Turning on his heels composedly, he faced the dementor. Remus' breath caught in his throat.  
  
A voice rang out from the darkness, echoing about the entire Forest. A voice brimming with hate and malice, but above all, sadistic satisfaction. "Ah, your masterpiece, is it not? I *wonder* why you kept that from me… Severus my pet, why *exactly* would you do something like that, hmm?" The voice chuckled, then hissed abruptly "Enough. I have no patience for traitors. Crucio." The words rang eerily in the night air, and the figure behind Remus squirmed uneasily as its counterpart fell to the ground, struggling madly not to cry out, not to give his Master that satisfaction. The dementor had not moved.  
  
After a while, that seemed an eternity to Remus, still retrained by his companion, the Dark Lord muttered a reluctant "Finite Incantatem", followed by a full body-bind. "Since that doesn't elicit as much response as I would like… I'll just have to resort to other means, I guess…". Severus was abruptly thrown against a tree, as the dementor made its war towards the model wood carving, hand raised. The thing caught fire instantly. The Potions Master ceased to struggle against the spell and watched in morbid fascination as the flames licked the base of the ice carving, melting it slightly our of shape. He let out a strangled gasp, as fell back limply against the tree.  
  
Enraged, Remus flew out of his hiding place, out of his guide's grasp, throwing himself against the dementor and… passing swiftly though it, unnoticed. He stumbled back at Severus' feet, who still hung limply there, eyes closed to block out the sight of his work being consumed by the flames. In shock, Remus, reached out to him, his hand brushing through the other man's arm apparently unheeded. [What does this mean? What am I doing here, where is…] He spotted Severus' counterpart hovering towards the tree, his expression blank, as ever. Just as he was about to turn to him for answers, words reaches his ears from the tree.  
  
"I'm sorry Remus, so sorry…" in a barely audible whisper. Severus looked immensely tired. It took Remus a second to realise that the words were not addressed directly to him. He looked in question at his guide, who merely nodded wearily, and motioned for him to stand back.  
  
The dementor stalked to the Potions Master and its form loomed over him briefly, face level with his. Remus knew what was coming. The dementor would disappear, and he himself would reach the clearing, finding Severus sprawled across the Forest floor in the middle of the blazing clearing, the mindless victim of the dementor's kiss. His eyes blurred, and he sensed the hand returning to his arm, guiding him away.  
  
The hand left him a few seconds later, and he opened his eyes to find himself floating in front of Hogwarts, Severus' "body" in front of him, regarding him with a shrewd expression. It muttered in a breath  
  
"I did what I could. I'm sorry…"  
  
"I can't hold you responsible, can I? I've missed you." Remus' voice broke slightly.  
  
The spectre smiled sadly, becoming more and more indistinct.  
  
"You're dying"  
  
"I know."  
  
*****************  
  
Remus floated outside his window, facing himself, still seated inside. His eyes were closed, and he was deathly pale… he snorted, realising that he *was* dead.  
  
A single tear glistened like a jewel for a second on his cheek before trailing down, leaving a small silver streak across his prematurely wizened face. Outside, the first twirling snowflakes plummeted to earth, shining purely for a split second before they reached the ground. Just as his hopes once had.  
  
Maybe that was all for the best. Tomorrow, they would find nothing but a dead body in the Infirmary, where what was left of Severus "lived". And they would find his in his room, facing out to the window, a goblet wolfsbane in hand. And they would be free from all this. What could possibly await him now that was worse than this last month? He smiled as he started to fade.  
  
THE END.  
  
A/N: Well, that's it. I hope it wasn't too corny at the end… I'm sorry, I couldn't bring myself to have them both setting off together into the sunset… *grins*. And, I'm proud of one thing: their relationship was just as ambiguous as it had been during the entire fic!!!!! So, was this slash or was it not? Huh? That's for you to decide…  
  
Don't forget my lil challenge, right?  
  
Seeya all.. I hope!  
  
Unseen 


End file.
